Virginia Lyric Clipse LORD WILLIN

[Pharrell]
You ready to do this, nigga?
You ready to come down
here?
It's Virginia, nigga...
We do this in broad daylight...
It's a
whole different degree of homicide, nigga...
You ready?

[Chorus:
Pusha T & (Pharrell)]
I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but
cook (Talk about, what?)
Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books
(Talk about, what?)
Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk
about, what?)
So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about,
what?)

[Pusha T]
In my "Home Sweet Home" I keep chrome next to
my bones
Alters my walk to limpin'
Since I love the feel, I guess I'm
passionately pimpin'
It 'tis what it seems
That thing imprintin' through
the seams of my jeans, by all means
Lost it all, from lives to love
Put my
faith in my money, help me rise above
See I turned to the Lord when them
times got tough
Bullied through streets, powder I pushed and shoved
In
that ole' Virginey
Out of ten niggas, nine are guinea
No money, all they
know is gimme, got semis waitin'
Heat like Caribbean summers, I been
there
Each year, a diffferent bitch wonder
Who wing she gon' fall under,
Push' or Mal'
Ganga grinds, wit' me, with thoughts of fuckin' them cross her
mind
Look ma, that's right up my alley
I love my family, I want them all
happy
In Virginia, we smirked at that Simpson trial
Yeah, I guess the
chase was wild
But what's the fuss about?
See, plenty my partners feelin'
like O.J.
Beat murder like the shit is OK, that's what our door say
Talk
the evil that men do, I'm lost in the mental
I miss you Shampoo, we miss you
Shampoo
And your grams, too...
[Pharrell]
My nigga...
Fo
sho...

[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T & (Pharrell)]
I'm from
Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?)
Pack it up,
sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?)
Where we re-up,
re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?)
So when we pull up, it
ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)

[Malice]
Seem
like they all got a comment to make
In regards to my paper, now they guessin'
my weight
They fast to predict the outcome of my fate
Wonderin' 'bout
Clipse and if they got what it take
Malice, he think he hard, tough guy of
the clique
And Pusha, he walk around like he swear he the shit
You right
on both counts, bitch, Clipse is us
And there are some things that you don't
discuss
Don't ask me 'bout the Neptunes and what's they fair
Don't ask
about the loud screamin' chick with the hair
Don't ask about my music, and
how that's comin' 'bout
Don't ask about my album, or when's it comin'
out
'Cause I feel like you really being funny on the slide
Now face down,
layin' on your tummy, or you die
I tried being humble, humble get no
respect
Now the first sign of trouble, that's a hole up in your neck
Plus,
what I look like spendin' my nights in jail
I could never be a thug, they
don't dress this well
I reside in VA, ride in VA
Most likely when I die,
I'm gon' die in VA
Virginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate here
For
out-of-towners, who think that they gon' move weight here
Ironic, the same
same place I'm makin' figures at
That there's the same land they used to hang
niggas at, in Virginia...

[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T &
(Pharrell)]
I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk
about, what?)
Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about,
what?)
Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about,
what?)
So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about,
what?)

[Pharrell]
Young'n... (Talk about, what?)
This is
real, young'n... (Talk about, what?)
You lookin' into a whole different
world, young'n (Talk about, what?)
This is real...
Live...

 

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